Cavanaugh on Duty(12)

Beginning to sweat, Jennings sucked in his breath and then hit a series of keys on the keyboard.

“There!” he declared, gesturing at the screen. “Satisfied?” His derisive question was intended for both of the detectives who’d so vexingly invaded his minor domain.

Kari raised her cell phone and took a quick picture of the information on the monitor. She caught the quizzical look on her partner’s face.

“It beats writing,” she told him. “Besides, I’ve got pretty terrible handwriting,” she added.

It was the kind that, unless she actually remembered what it was that she’d jotted down earlier, she had difficulty deciphering.

“You should work on that,” Esteban commented.

Maybe she liked him better when he didn’t talk, she thought, not quite sure if he was being serious or sarcastic. In either case, she didn’t welcome the unsolicited advice.

Turning her attention back to the less than cooperative storage-facility manager, she asked one final question. “Is there anything you can tell us about the deceased?”

Jennings was still guarded. “Like what?” he replied.

She couldn’t decide if the man was hiding something or was just uncooperative with the law in general. “Like did you hear him arguing with anyone? Did he look upset in the last week or so?”

He raised and lowered his shoulders in a vague, dismissive manner. “I only saw him maybe a couple of times.”

“Recently?” Esteban growled out the word, issuing it like a challenge.

“N-no,” Jennings stammered, clearly uncomfortable when Esteban addressed him. The manager thought for a moment, then said, “He paid his bill on time and never gave me any trouble.”

She supposed that was something—or a non-something. Nonetheless, she said thank-you as she took out one of her business cards. “If you do happen to think of something else, you can reach me at this number.” She placed the card on his desk.

Jennings picked it up and looked down at the number imprinted on the face of the off-white business card. “If I call this number, I’ll just get you?” he asked, raising one eyebrow as he looked up at her.

There was no way she was going to have the man thinking this was about anything but the murder. “That’s the precinct number for both of us,” she informed him in a clipped voice.

“Oh.” Suddenly disinterested, Jennings tossed the card onto the side of the desk just as they began to walk out.

“Looks like you just blew your chances for a date,” Esteban quipped. The smallest hint of a grin accompanied his wry observation.

Kari narrowed her eyes at him as she banked down her surprise. “You have a sense of humor. Reassuring,” she commented. “As for your remark, I’d rather eat dirt.”

If he was going to comment on her unappetizing choice of entrée, the words died unspoken as both he and Kari saw the Aurora Police Department’s white CSI van pull up onto the storage facility’s grounds.

“That way,” Kari called out to the driver, who was none other than her father. She pointed in the general direction of Reynolds’s storage unit.

Rather than say anything, Sean Cavanaugh briefly stuck his hand out the driver’s-side window and gave a quick wave in response before continuing on his way. Kari followed quickly behind the vehicle.

She didn’t bother looking over her shoulder to see if Fernandez had opted to wait for her in the car or to follow her lead.

Now that the scene was going to be thoroughly documented, she wanted to get at the body wrapped up in the rug. There could be something on the torso that could help them figure out who killed Reynolds and why.

Sean Cavanaugh and his two investigators were already inside the storage unit when she reached it. The sound of cameras clicking, freezing the crime scene in time, greeted her as she walked in.

One thing struck her immediately. The smell was just as appalling the second time around as it had been the first.

“Drumming up business for my department?” her father asked as he snapped another picture of the rug and the victim within it.

“Actually, I thought I’d make my new partner’s first day on the job an unforgettable one,” she jested.

“New partner,” Sean repeated. This was the first he’d heard about Kari getting someone new to work with. “That would be you?” he asked, looking over his daughter’s head at the tall and striking dark-haired man who was half a step behind her.

Kari turned around. Damn, but he was incredibly quiet, she thought for a second time. He didn’t seem to make a sound when he moved. If he stayed on, she might have to give serious consideration to getting him a bell to wear around his neck.

“So you did decide to come along,” she murmured.

Esteban ignored her for the time being, looking instead at the man who’d asked him a question.

“Detective Esteban Fernandez,” he said, extending his hand to the man he assumed was the supervisor of the CSI day crew. He had a very authoritative manner about him that lent itself well to the position.

“Sean Cavanaugh,” Sean introduced himself, taking the offered hand in his.

The younger man had a good, solid handshake, Sean thought. You could tell a great deal about a man by the way he stepped up and presented himself. He felt a little more at ease about his daughter being out in the field. This partner, he judged, would have her back.

“My daughter giving you a hard time?” he asked Esteban amicably.

“Not that I noticed, sir,” the detective replied with stoic resignation that was not wasted on Sean. He took a second look at the young man, and then looked at his daughter. This could prove to be interesting, Sean thought.

Kari noted the subtle shift, but before she could say anything, one of her father’s two assistants called out to him.

“Sean, come look at this,” Destiny Richardson requested. She and the other investigator had managed to carefully unfurl and remove the rug from around the victim’s body. The entire area where the rug had been in direct contact with the dead man was completely soaked with blood.

Kari was right beside her father and looked down at the corpse sans his cocoon. “Looks like he was killed on that rug,” she theorized.

“Or wrapped up immediately after he was killed,” Esteban interjected. Inherent concern masked by a veil of curiosity had him glancing in her direction to see how she was handling this up-close view of murder. That her pallor hadn’t changed nor had she bolted to purge her suddenly nauseated stomach, drew grudging admiration from him. “Looks like cause of death was having his throat slashed,” Esteban observed.

“At least it was quick,” Kari said, then raised her eyes up to her father’s, looking for confirmation. “It was quick, right?”

Sean nodded. “That would be my preliminary guess, at least for now. I’ll know more once we get him back to the lab.”

“How long do you think he’s been dead?” Kari asked.

Rather than answer, Sean looked at the investigator who had called him over to the unveiled body. Destiny, the young woman he had initially taken under his wing and personally trained because she had such an aptitude for the work, was soon going to become an official member of the family. She was engaged to Kari’s older brother, Logan.

Right now, though, she had just removed the thermometer she’d inserted into the victim’s liver in order to ascertain body temperature, which in turn allowed them to establish approximate time of death.

“According to his liver temperature, I’d say that he’s been dead close to a week,” Destiny estimated.

“You heard the lady,” Sean said to his daughter.

Before she could thank Destiny, Esteban was calling her attention to something else.

“Hey, Hyphen,” he said, using the same nickname that he’d heard the lieutenant use.

Kari looked in his direction, not entirely sure if she liked the man calling her that or not. She supposed it beat Fernandez referring to her as “hey, you,” so for now she let it go.

“Yes?” she responded, waiting.

“What do you make of this?” While the others were gathered around the victim’s head, looking at him upside down, Esteban was standing on the other end of the body, peering down at the victim’s chest.

Kari circumvented the body, coming over to stand next to her partner. “Make of what?” she wanted to know.

“This.” Esteban pointed to the front of the dead man’s pullover sport shirt.

She squinted, trying to see exactly what it was that had caught her partner’s eye, other than the massive bloodstain that had soaked through the entire front of what looked to have been a light green shirt. The deceased had a large neck, and all three buttons at his neckline were open.

She didn’t notice anything until she looked down a second time. Staring at the shirt, she began to make out what looked like a crude drawing that had been stenciled in with a black laundry marker.